


Tools

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Rare Talent and Intellect [10]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: Aevar is not the brightest ruler she has known, but he is cunning enough to make up for it. He is also smart enough to know when it is better to seek the counsel of someone wiser and more experienced in the subtler aspects of politics. That is why he asked to see her.“What do you think of them?” the duc asks, looking through the window towards Brackenbury, where the Sanitarium is.“Animancers?”Aevar sighs. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”





	Tools

**Author's Note:**

> (prompts: Duc Aevar Wolf-Grin, door, goals)

Aevar is not the brightest ruler she has known, but he is cunning enough to make up for it. That, and he was born in Defiance Bay, has grown with it, has been near the centre of the country’s most recent tumultuous history; he has the city’s pulse beating in his own veins, and it is something that cannot be faked. That is why people follow him – because he is not exactly like either of them, and yet all the groups listen to him because he is a part of the city itself, and has a piece of each of them in him; he is not either but _all_ of them, an amalgam of all the odd shards forming the local population.

He is also smart enough to know when it is better to seek the counsel of someone wiser and more experienced in the subtler aspects of politics. That is why he asked to see her. Lady Webb smiles when she glimpses a stray thought as he wonders how it is that she travels through the city so often, but no one has seen her in years. But he is also smart enough not to pry.

“What do you think of them?” the duc asks, looking through the window towards Brackenbury, where the Sanitarium is.

“Animancers?”

Aevar sighs. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?” He turns to her, eyes sharp; he is not searching for hope or comfort, but is counting on her to have some miraculous solutions up her sleeve and save the city by reaching out of the shadows with her thoughts, unseen.

“It might.” She steeples her fingers together, thinking, analysing. “I will do what I can, but… Animancy is a slippery thing.”

“And your cipher magic isn’t?”

“How do you think I know how dangerous it is?” she retorts, but without raising her voice; she has scolded him like a boy in the past a few times, and he can take even that kind of criticism, at least from her, but there might be need for that later, and overused tricks lose their power. “We’re not so different, animancers and us.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I’d appreciate if you don’t go telling that to people, though.”

Aevar grins, proving how adequate his name is. “You know how difficult it would be to find a new advisor?” He shakes his head. “I’m not asking you as the head of the Dunryd Row, I’m not asking you as the voice of reason in this mad city. I’m asking for your personal opinion.”

Eydis keeps her face and voice blank. “I don’t have one.”

His eyes flare with temper, but he reigns it in; it would not do to offend her and he knows that. He might be leading the city, but she is the one herding it, and without her assistance, it would fall out of his grasp, it would scatter and slip through his fingers. Dyrwoodans, with their tempers and hospitality, are at their best when united by a common enemy, and when there is none they are all too eager to go looking for one.

“Don’t give me that mysterious cipher drakeshit, Eydis. I’m not asking out of idle curiosity. This district is called First Fires for a reason; I don’t want some bloody Second Fires built on its ruins, not on my watch.”

Lady Webb just arches her eyebrows and stares at him with kind, cool interest. It is not his watch, and he should remember it. She no longer cares for the kind of power he wields, and she has learned to live without getting recognition, but she will not let some impatient boy take the credit for her achievements. It is not her fault that he cannot simply admit he is scared.

“On our watch,” Aevar corrects.

She sighs but lets it pass. Now is not the time for petty grudges.

“So?” He looks at her expectantly.

Eydis rests her hands on the polished surface of the table, right over the reflection of her face; it is blurred and smoothes out her features and makes her look deceptively young – and that is not something she wants to dwell on right now.

“I don’t have an opinion because I _can’t_ have one,” she explains, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. She looks him squarely in the eye. “If I had, I would be in your place.” She straightens her shoulders and raises her head. “Do you understand this, Aevar? I can either be a guardian spirit of this city or…” She breaks off, pressing her lips together into a thin line. “There are some kinds of power that should not go together. And mine is one of them. We’ve never had a wizard or priest or any other magic user as a duc, and for good reasons. We’ve never had a cipher either.” When she gets up, he takes a step back involuntarily. So he is still a quick learner, at least. “My opinion on animancy is that I don’t let myself dabble in it. Is that clear enough or do I have to speak more plainly?”

Aevar scoffs. “I might be brash, but I’m not stupid.”

“Good for you, then.”

He stares at her for a moment, taken aback, and then roars with laughter, letting the tension ease. She gently prompts his thoughts to focus, lightly enough so that he would not notice.

“Very well.” He reaches for a glass of wine, long forgotten, takes a gulp and winces; it has grown too warm. “Your opinion as the head of the Dunryd Row, then?”

“It’s a tool, like any other. Can do wonders when in proper hands, can do harm when misused.” She takes a sip of water. “It is so with all tools ever invented.”

“A tool? Do you hear yourself?” He grimaces. “Can a hammer shatter a soul? Can a needle sew it back together?”

“Depends on what they’re made of, and I’m fairly certain there was at least one hammer that could,” she replies calmly. “It’s just a matter of… scope. Take a butter knife and a sword. Take a match; you can light a candle or you can put a house on fire. It’s the user that matters, not the tool. Thought some tools are more dangerous than others.”

“Well, I’d rather be killed with a sword than a butter knife. Faster and less painful,” he grins again, trying to boost his confidence by jesting, and mostly succeeding. “You haven’t really answered me.”

Eydis sighs again, slowly walking over to the window. There is something different in the city today - this spring – this year? There is no smoke visible yet, but her mind can smell it. Something is brewing… And if _he_ is the one behind that, sooner or later it will come to be. All she can do is try to ensure it will be later, late enough to give them some time to prepare.

“That’s because there is no good answer, Aevar. Just our choices. And, unfortunately, other people’s choices as well.”


End file.
